


how are you cut down to the ground

by blackkat



Series: Rare Pair Drabbles [27]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Drive-By Wordbuilding, First Meetings, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Loyalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 10:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Spite carries Zabuza to Kumo. It just might gain him something unexpected, though.





	how are you cut down to the ground

 It’s mostly luck that they manage to find a patrol outside of Kumo's walls.

Not that Zabuza would actually _care_ about having to storm the village itself—he’s spitting mad, dripping blood, with Kubikiribōchō still rebuilding itself and Haku a dead weight over one shoulder, and this is just about the worst day he’s had since the coup failed and he had to scramble to leave Kiri before Yagura could kill them. It’s fucking _awful_ , and Zabuza is so far past done that he’s come right back around to wanting to fix every last damn thing that’s gone tits-up.

Still, Kumo and Kiri haven’t always had the best relationship, so it’s probably for the best that Zabuza doesn’t actually have to shove his way through the main gate to find someone in charge of things. The Kumo patrol is taking a breather, camped out on the bank of a small creek, and Zabuza lets out a breath as soon as he spots them. Relief, mostly, with an edge of vicious satisfaction that might be bordering on petty, but it keeps him moving. Keeps his steps loud, too, not the trained silence of a Kiri swordsman, and the first thump of a sandal on the ground has the blonde woman jerking up, rising to her feet in an instant.

Behind her, slower, the white-haired man in the high-collared shirt raises his head, eyes locking on Zabuza immediately. He frowns a little, but rises, and the boy and girl behind him both scramble up as well. Genin, Zabuza thinks, and then very deliberately doesn’t look at them again. Threatening genin is a good way to get a reaction out of an enemy, but right now that’s the very last thing Zabuza wants.

“Get your hand the hell away from your sword unless you're actually going to use it,” he tells the older kunoichi sharply, and drops Kubikiribōchō’s sheered-off blade with a thud that practically shakes the ground. “I'm not here to fight, I've got info you're going to want.”

“Samui,” the man says, and the blonde takes a step to the side, even though she’s frowning. The man takes her place, facing Zabuza, and dark eyes flicker from Zabuza’s bleeding wounds to Haku's limp form to Kubikiribōchō on the ground. Then, deliberately, he leans down, picking up Zabuza’s sword and slinging it over his own shoulder.

“I'm Darui,” he says. “One of the Seven Swordsmen, then.”

“Formerly,” Zabuza says, and gives him a grin that’s more bared teeth than anything.

One corner of Darui's mouth tips up. “There seem to be a lot of former Kiri nin,” he says, then glances at Haku again. “Your genin—”

“Apprentice,” Zabuza corrects, because he needs their trust too much to let them make false assumptions. “He’s a chuunin.”

A little bit of tension slides out of Darui's shoulders, and he nods, tipping his head towards their small campfire. “Does he need a medic? None of us are specialized, but there should be another patrol nearby with a medic on it.”

“He should survive until then,” Zabuza says, and he’s aiming for uncaring but the words feel tight in his throat. Haku did what he was trained to, took the blow that would have killed Zabuza, but—

Even if it’s what he was supposed to do as Zabuza’s weapon, as his carefully groomed tool, even though Zabuza should have left him in the road when he ran instead of grabbing Haku and carrying his limp weight along—well.

Haku's a good tool, but it’s looking like Zabuza makes a pretty terrible one, honestly.

Determinedly, he stalks forward, ignoring the dizzy, empty sort of ache in his head that means he’s also lost a bit too much blood, and crouches down to lay Haku on the grass. Standing back up seems like more of an effort than it’s worth, but he grits his teeth, pushes up, and makes it back to his feet through sheer effort.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, there's a hand under his elbow, steadying him, and Darui says, “Omoi, get him a blanket. Karui, go find C’s patrol and get them here.”

The boy freezes, like a deer caught off guard, and the redheaded girl rolls her eyes. She leans over, punching him in the arm and making him yelp, and then asks, “They’re by the entrance to the valley?”

“They should be,” Darui confirms, and Karui nods, turns, and picks up a run.

“But what if I put a blanket on him and accidentally suffocate him and—”

“Omoi,” Darui sighs, and Samui snorts quietly, gets a hand on Omoi's shoulder, and pulls him over towards their packs. With one more glance at them, Darui turns back to Zabuza, then tips his head at one of the rocks and says, “You look like you need a medic too.”

Zabuza lets himself be led over, and it’s possible that sitting down comes a little closer to a collapse than he’d like. With a grimace, he eases back, then says, “We had someone after us and I couldn’t stop, but I think we lost him near the border.”

Darui pauses, then glances at Samui, who’s already looking back. She nods, turns, and vanishes behind the scrubby trees without a sound, probably going to scout.

Efficient, Zabuza thinks, and closes his eyes just for a moment. He’s missed that kind of thing, easy familiarity and a knowledge of how to work as a part of a machine. Being a missing-nin was never on his to-do list before all of this shit, and he’s not fond of it.

“These look like shark bites,” Darui says, and a moment later cloth touches Zabuza’s arm, wraps around one of the deeper gouges.

“Fucking _summons_ ,” Zabuza says disgustedly, but it’s a reminder of what drove him all the way here, and he pushes up a little straighter, says, “You’ve probably heard of Hoshigaki Kisame,”

Darui flicks a glance at his face as he ties the bandage off, but nods. “Another Kiri missing-nin,” he says, with something like amusement. “There are quite a few of you.”

The words make Zabuza bristle, even though he knows better than most all the problems with Kiri, all the crude, angry, bleak aspects of it. “Don’t you fucking—”

Darui's hands are deft but not harsh as they turn him, push him forward so Darui can see the deep gouges and flayed skin on his back. “Ah, sorry. Kiri nin are trained for murder,” he says. “Kumo nin are trained for loyalty. Different villages.”

Zabuza can't argue with that. He laughs, rough and jagged, and then hisses through his teeth as Darui unhooks the ripped pieces of Kubikiribōchō’s harness, pulling the remains of Zabuza’s shirt off with it. “Yeah,” he agrees, and lets his head drop, hiding his grimace as Darui works. “Fuck, Kisame caught me near Wave. I was there for a job, but he tried to recruit me into whatever shitshow he’s part of now. Akatsuki.”

There's no obvious tell, but Darui's fingers are just a little but slower. “Akatsuki,” he repeats, then as Zabuza’s breath catches at a particularly painful tug, “Sorry, I'm sorry.”

Zabuza ignores that, mostly because he’s not quite sure what to do with it. He’d expected to be chained up on the ground, likely with his chakra sealed by now. Blankets for Haku and care for his own wounds is something he’s entirely unprepared for. He digs his fingers into his thighs, letting his eyes slips close, and—it’s spite that carried him here, knowing that no medic would see a missing-nin and that Haku's skills with herbs, good as they are, wouldn’t be enough even if Haku hadn’t taken that hit for him. He’s honestly been expecting to die, because he knows exactly how hard it is to heal Samehada’s wounds, and this was intended to be a last fuck you to Kisame and his mad devotion.

“They're after the bijuu,” he says shortly, sees Darui's head dip in a careful nod. “Kisame didn’t say outright, but—I got the impression that they're going in order, so your Nibi jinchuuriki’s going to be in their crosshairs pretty fucking soon.”

“Are you going to go on to Suna, and warn the Ichibi jinchuuriki?” Darui asks, and that tone is bland, carefully so. He’s looking for a certain answer, but Zabuza is too fucking tired to care what it is.

“I kind of expected you to let me bleed out on the ground once I passed on the news,” he says, and laughs, even though it hurts his throat. “Fuck, I was going to beg you to get Haku a medic, but I know what kind of tensions Kumo's got with Kiri.”

There's a long pause, and then Darui shifts, slides around and stands. Zabuza glances up at him, even though it makes the raw flesh on his back pull unpleasantly, and—

“Don’t be dull,” Darui tells him, and the set of his mouth is something determined. “You should lie down until C gets here. Omoi, get my bedroll.”

The boy, currently settling another log on the fire, glances up, then rolls his eyes skyward with a longsuffering expression. “Yes, sir,” he says, then drops the log. It sends up a shower of sparks, and he yelps, recoils, says, “I don’t want to start a forest fire and burn Lightning Country to the ground!”

Judging by Darui's expression, this is a common occurrence. “Then it’s a good thing there are two Suiton users here,” he says dryly, then offers Zabuza a hand. “It will be one second, sorry.”

“You apologize too damn much,” Zabuza says, rolling his eyes, but he takes the proffered hand and lets Darui pull him to his feet with a wince. “ _Fuck_. Next time I see Kisame I'm planting Kubikiribōchō in his fucking ass.”

“Backup will help with that,” Darui points out, and gets a hand under Zabuza’s elbow as his vision spins.

Given how handily Kisame has always been able to kick his ass, Zabuza’s not about to object. “Hell of a lot better than bleeding out in Kumo,” he says, and Darui snorts.

“Loyalty is a good thing,” he returns, “and you showed us loyalty. Kumo supports that kind of sacrifice.”

Zabuza doesn’t tell him it was spite and stubbornness that got him here, just lets Darui ease him down on the bedroll. “Thanks,” he says, and means for more than just the patch job.

“C will be here within the hour,” Darui promises, and his eyes are dark and sharp as he crouches next to Zabuza’s head. “We’ll keep watch for anyone who might have followed you.”

Hell. Zabuza had mostly forgotten what it was like to be part of a team. Haku always has his back, but he’s one person, a teenager no matter how skilled. A team is something Zabuza hasn’t had since the early days in the Seven Swordsmen, and even that was more cutthroat than this easy belief and support.

He closes his eyes, and at this point he doesn’t care if there’s a sword swinging at his head, wouldn’t fight it if there was. The message has been passed on, he didn’t give Kisame the satisfaction of killing him after he realized Zabuza was stringing him along for information, and he got Haku to someone who will probably help him. Bloodlines are valuable to Kumo, a hell of a lot more than they are to Kiri, and that alone will make them more inclined to give Haku shelter. For Zabuza himself, it doesn’t matter at this point. The last members of the rebellion are dead, killed defending him, and Kiri is a distant dream.

Instead of a sword to his throat, though, there's a hand in his hair, a light touch. Darui doesn’t say anything, but a moment later Zabuza hears Samui's voice, Darui's low response. Not Zabuza’s team, and yet…

Haku's breathing is coming a little easier, a little steadier. Zabuza can feel Kubikiribōchō’s presence where it’s leaning against the rock, slowly repairing itself, and the hum of chakra signatures around him. he thinks for a moment of calling up a mist to hide them, but—

He decided to trust them, before, he decides that he’ll do the same now. There’s nothing left for Zabuza to lose, but…it’s possible, just faintly, that there's something here that he could gain.


End file.
